


The Garden

by celedan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Ancient Rome, Armageddoff, Bath Houses, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comfort, First Time, Food Play, Forbidden Love, Happily Ever After Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), Wings, clueless first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celedan/pseuds/celedan
Summary: Aziraphale was sad since the once so beautiful garden of Eden was now bereft of God's presence after the humans' expulsion. Alone and moody, he strolled through the moonlit garden until suddenly, that serpent was there again to offer him comfort. “Let me take the sadness away,” Crawly said, and Aziraphale yielded to him, sinking into the arms of a demon who seemed to be the only one who bothered with his feelings.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 105





	The Garden

So many times, Aziraphale, from his guarding post high up on the wall of the Eastern Gate, had looked out over the beautiful, serene garden that extended below him. The lush, green plants, their colourful blossoms, their sweet smell, and the probably ambrosial taste of their berries and fruits had called to him ever since that divine garden had been created a couple of days ago (well, not days in the modern sense; they were divine days, so they lasted a tad longer than normal days).

Anyway, watching over this paradise had been the best task ever that could have been assigned to Aziraphale. Sure, he had a flaming sword (now given away, not lost, mind you) with which he was to protect Eden, but, honestly, apart from a couple of wild animals roaming the Earth outside the wall, nothing could have posed a threat to God's favourite new creation (and it really wasn't his fault that a sneaky serpent had infiltrated the garden from down below; Aziraphale's job was to watch out for trouble coming from the endless desert surrounding the garden, so that, most of the time, he had his back turned to Eden – apart from the couple of times he indulged in some short breaks, that is...). Which was a very good thing since Aziraphale didn't like fighting or, Almighty forbid, killing. There had been enough killing that dreadful day of the Fall...

It had felt so calming watching over this place, watching all the different, new animals frolicking around, including that newest species called humans (Aziraphale couldn't help but blush when he remembered watching them copulating; it had been so... carnal... excitingly new).

But now... now, that magic was gone. Although all the animals were still here, the place felt deserted. The serene tranquility of the moonlit nights now felt eery, and Aziraphale shuddered involuntarily as he wandered through the literally Godforsaken garden.

The formerly plesantly cooling grass – still uncomfortably wet from the first rain that this new world had ever seen, raindrops clinging to leaves and blades and petals sparkling silver in the moonlight – now felt cold and alien under the naked feet of his brand-new corporation, the twigs of the trees brushing against his hair and wings now felt unfriendly to him as they tangled in the soft white-golden locks and in his downy feathers.

No matter where he went in the garden, having abandoned his now futile post at the Eastern Gate to venture down into Eden, this wistful feeling still remained the same.

At long last, his aimless roaming led him into the heart of the garden where that confounded Tree of Knowledge stood. It had only caused trouble from the beginning, and maybe the demon had been right; it should have been planted very far away. Then, everything would still be as it had been this morning.

Sighing, Aziraphale stopped under the lush canopy of leaves, staring out into the night. He breathed in the sweet smell of the blossoms, and he placed his hand, in a sudden spur of the moment, on the rough bark of the Tree. Maybe just from touching it, it would give him some knowledge, too. Maybe it inspired an idea what he should do now. So far, Heaven hadn't gotten in touch with him yet for a new assignment, God forbid what that may turn out to be.

He wished he could just stay here and be happy, but for that, the magic of this place had to come back...

“Why ssso ssssad, angel?”

The soft hiss so close to his ear made him jump, and instinctively, he raised his hand to wield his flaming sword. A soft, hissed chuckle made him purse his lips tartly.

“You gave it away, remember?”

Looking up, Aziraphale met the golden-yellow eyes of the serpent that was wrapped around the thickest branches of the Tree, completely relaxed and at ease there, almost invisible with its black scales in the dark of the night.

He stared at Crawly for a moment, and pressed his lips together. Warily, he watched the huge being lazily lower its massive, sinfully flexible body to the grass at his feet, and before he could blink, the serpent morphed back into the demon he had met only a couple of hours ago.

Crawly watched him calmly out of his disturbing eyes.

“Why so sad, angel?” he asked again, and with the words, Aziraphale's wistfulness returned, replacing the annoyance.

He sighed, and his shoulders as well as his wings drooped.

“It's all gone,” he sighed, not expecting the demon to understand.

When Crawly spoke, Aziraphale was surprised to actually hear compassion in his voice.

“The humans are gone, yes, but apart from that, this place is the same as before, is it not?”

“The Almighty's benevolence left the garden, can't you feel it?”

“Oh, I can feel it alright,” Crawly answered, but he didn't seem very bothered by it. He wouldn't be, as a demon, Aziraphale supposed.

The demon stepped nearer, and Aziraphale backed away automatically until his back and wings hit the bark of the Tree behind him. Gulping, he looked up into Crawly's eyes. He didn't know what to expect. This morning, the demon had behaved very cordial, as had Aziraphale which was only proper, and he couldn't help but feel some sort of connection to Crawly (otherwise, he'd never offered the demon protection from the rain by shielding him with his wings when the serpent had started complaining about the sudden rain). But a lot could have happened in just a couple of hours. Crawly could have been send as an advance party from Hell, wanting to conquer this Heavenly place. Aziraphale wouldn't allow this, of course, he still had his task, even if he didn't know what Hell would want with this place, bereft of God's magic as it was now.

His thoughts were so jumbled that he startled when Crawly actually started speaking again.

“But it doesn't matter, does it?”

Aziraphale blinked at the demon cluelessly.

“That the Almighty is gone. Sure, you do mind more than me, but it's still a beautiful place, isn't it?” Crawly looked around, and so, Aziraphale looked as well, following Crawly's gaze. And somehow, he started to see it again. The demon was right, it was still a beautiful place; that beauty was just clouded by the pain of loss Aziraphale felt that God had left this place.

A small smile made its way onto Aziraphale's face.

“Yes,” he murmured, feeling slightly better already, and grateful that the demon bothered to care about his feelings, even if nobody else did, “I suppose.”

He looked back at Crawly who, bathed in the silver light of the moon, watched him attentively.

“What do you think will happen now to the humans?” he asked; he didn't put any blame in his voice for Crawly's part in this tragedy that had befallen the couple. He'd only done his job, as had Aziraphale (maybe not as good as the demon since the serpent had managed to sneak in here in the first place). And... Aziraphale had to admit, he'd done a _good_ job. Other demons might not have fulfilled their task without some bloodshed. But this one seemed content to whisper clever, fateful suggestions in people's ears. He had a nice enough voice for it...

Aziraphale jerked out of his suddenly strange thoughts when Crawly answered him. “They'll live their life.” The demon shrugged. “Probably not as comfortable as here, though. But God still loves them nonetheless.”

“Hm, that would be nice,” Aziraphale mused, feeling sorry for the humans.

“And you?”

Wide-eyed, he met Crawly's golden gaze. “E-excuse me?”

“Do you still have God's love despite what happened on your watch?”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together, and the pure-white feathers of his wings bristled. “Every angel has the Lord's love.”

A wistful look suddenly crossed Crawly's features. “Yeah, I remember.”

Aziraphale cringed. He supposed that was a very delicate topic of conversation to have with a Fallen, and probably not very polite to mention it.

“'M sorry,” he mumbled, but Crawly, instead of being offended, just grinned at him boyishly.

“Quite alright, angel,” he assured, and Aziraphale had to shudder involuntarily. The way he had said that, “angel”, it had sounded, although just a simple statement, suggestive.

He flinched as Crawly suddenly stepped even closer to him, their garments brushing in the gentle breeze, black and white. The demon looked at him intensely.

“Sadness doesn't suit you, angel,” he whispered, and raised his hand to brush a lock of silver-blond hair from Aziraphale's forehead before letting it slide down to caress his cheek.

Much to his shock, Aziraphale didn't flinch this time, even allowed the touch. He clearly felt the crackle of demonic power sizzling over his body. It should hurt him, but it actually felt kind of... exciting (in a thrillingly forbidden way).

It didn't feel evil, just... kind.

“I'm...” He cleared his throat. “I'm afraid this sadness will last for a while, but it's nothing, really.”

Crawly shook his head. “Let me take it away then. Just for a while.”

“What?” he breathed, and met the demon's intense gaze.

“Told you, sadness doesn't suit you.”

And with that, Crawly unexpectedly leaned in to press his lips against Aziraphale's.

Drawing in a shocked breath, Aziraphale stared wide-eyed at Crawly, but thinking of pulling away from the demon didn't even cross his mind once.

“Do you want me to make it better?” Crawly whispered against Aziraphale's lips, and, completely overwhelmed, the dazed angel could only nod. He found himself in Crawly's arms and his mouth once more involved in a fierce kiss in the next second.

He didn't know why the demon was doing this (apart from the obvious; tempting an angel of the Lord), Heaven, he didn't even know why _he_ was doing this himself, but... pulling back again, he looked Crawly in the eyes. They were ablaze with wonder, and passion, and awe for _him_ , Aziraphale! And suddenly, he didn't feel so overwhelmed anymore, at least not in the negative sense. He felt the same wonder he read in Crawly's eyes, and the thrill of something new and _definitely_ forbidden – probably even more forbidden than snacking from the Tree of Knowledge – surged through his veins like liquid fire. But it didn't burn him. It warmed him, made him feel good. He craved it suddenly more than he'd ever craved anything before.

Crawly managed to catch Aziraphale's wrists in his hands, and suddenly brought them up over the angel's head while crowding him against the Tree.

He made a surprised noise that was swallowed by Crawly's mouth, as was the very pitiful whimper when the demon pushed his narrow thigh between Aziraphale's.

A burning hardness pressed against his clothed hip that made him blush violently, and he himself felt a strange, answering burning in his loins.

Oh God! Was that what they were going to do? Copulating like the humans?

A new thrill ran through Aziraphale at the thought, especially when that meant that it would continue to feel as divine as the pressure against his hardness felt right now.

Suddenly, his whole world tilted, and he found himself lowered to the soft, grassy ground, only held by the demon's skinny but surprisingly strong, wiry arms.

He gasped when he came to rest on his back with Crawly hovering above him, straddling his hips. Aziraphale's eyes flickered down to where the warm thighs straddled him, the motion having rucked up the black cloth of Crawly's garment to reveal shockingly white, soft-looking skin as a violent contrast. Gulping, he had to claw his fingers into the soft grass beneath him as he saw sinewy muscles flex under skin pressed firmly against his sides. Soft fingers touched his chin to raise his head again so Crawly could meet his eyes. They looked at each other for the longest time, somehow lost in each other so that nothing else seemed to count anymore. Then, Crawly had the nerv to wink cheekily at Aziraphale. But before the angel could make a spluttering remark, the words got stuck in his throat when Crawly grasped his garment in both fists, and swiftly pulled it over his head, carelessly throwing it to the side. Completely naked, he arched and writhed his back sensually like the serpent he was until his black wings appeared and spread out behind him in an equally as sensual motion. Power washed over Aziraphale like a cool balm although the infernal energy being released with the spreading of Crawly's wings should have felt painful.

The demon looked back down at Aziraphale with burning eyes, his warm hands now placed onto the angel's chest. And before he could realise what was happening, Aziraphale's garment vanished, too.

His protests died in his throat to a choked off moan when naked skin met naked skin for the first time.

“Crawly!” he gasped, and now, his hands flew to lean hips.

“Shh, angel,” Crawly hushed, and leant down, placing his upper body flush onto Aziraphale's so he could reach his mouth for another quick kiss. “Let me.”

And he let him indeed, surrendering to this demon in the most carnal way possible.

From Aziraphale's mouth, Crawly worked his way to Aziraphale's jaw and throat, kissing and licking down his clavicle and chest, nibbling and biting at his belly and hips until he finally settled between the angel's willingly spread thighs, mouthing at the soft skin on the inside. Taking him apart with lips, and teeth, and hands, surely leaving bruises all over Aziraphale's body.

Aziraphale whined once more pitifully, begging wordlessly for something unspeakable as he instinctively jerked his hips up to meet Crawly's mouth, but Crawly ignored him. Instead, the demon made his way up his body again, and sprawled onto Aziraphale's chest, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. Propping himself up on one arm, he suddenly dangled something in front of Aziraphale's face. Because of a whispy cloud hiding the moon for a moment, he couldn't make out what it was Crawly offered him. He eventually realised what it was even before he could see the object because the fruity, sweet-sour smell revealed the offering's nature.

He gulped.

He'd never tasted the juicy berries growing in the garden, he'd never dared to, but wandering around tonight, he'd taken in their scent which he now recognised. His mouth watered, and he cast a desperate glance at the demon that was so sorely tempting him.

“I know you want a taste, angel,” Crawly crooned, his voice deep and husky as he brought the dark-red berry closer to Aziraphale's lips.

“How...”

“I can see it. You do want it so badly.”

Breathing heavily, Aziraphale resisted for a split-second before he raised his head the last centimetres to close his greedy lips around the fruit and the tips of Crawly's fingers holding it.

The taste was even more divine than the smell when sourness and sweetness exploded on his tongue. He moaned loudly, indecently, but he didn't care for the moment. Willingly, he opened his mouth again when Crawly pressed another fruit against his lips, this time a different one, but it tasted just as heavenly.

He let himself be fed with fruit upon fruit. Greedily, he took Crawly's offer again and again, not caring about the consequences, even if he may doom himself giving into temptation. Each berry tasted better than the other, and a loud moan was ripped from Aziraphale when Crawly eventually leaned down, catching Aziraphale's chin with sticky fingers to hold him still so he could kiss him again. They shared the fruits between them, red, rich, dark juice escaping their mouths to run down Aziraphale's chin in sticky, blood-red rivulets. He felt decadent and completely debauched, and he wanted more, plundering Crawly's mouth with his tongue even deeper to search for that last bit of fruity taste as well as the demon's own flavour.

Hands that had fluttered uselessly by his sides now raised on their own accord to start exploring the demon's body all over as thouroughly as he explored his mouth. His fingers sank into a pert bottom, and he jerked slightly when Crawly pulled back eventually to sensually lick away the spilled juice. Aziraphale writhed and arched his head to give Crawly more space, baring his throat in surrender in the process as he was falling to pieces under the demons mouth and exploring hands.

Exhaling shallow puffs of breath, Aziraphale tightened his hold around Crawly, his eyes staring unseeing up into the softly waving canopy of the Tree above him. His whole body felt as if on fire, the sensations even stronger and more devastating where Crawly actually touched him. These unfamiliar feelings his new corporation was experiencing were almost uncomfortable in their intensity, and suddenly, he couldn't breath. Panting, Aziraphale hooked one leg around Crawly's so he could roll them both around until he was on top of the demon. He scarmbled up hastily, now being to the one who straddled the other being. He felt lighter now, air coming into his lungs more easily again, and the intensity ebbed away somewhat now that they were barely touching. Though in the next moment, he felt bereft, and the need to touch the demon again arose like a sickening dark wave of desire.

Transfixed by the sight laid out before him, he tentatively touched his fingertips to Crawly's form, brushing small dark nipples, and tracing the thin trail of dark hair leading down his belly to his groin. The demon shuddered violently underneath him, his eyes closed in bliss as a soft hiss left his lips. And for a moment, he seemed to have lost all control as, wherever Aziraphale's loving, greedy fingers slid over naked skin, black and copper scales suddenly whispered and rippled over Crawly's body, appearing and disappearing lightning quick again.

“Hgnn, angel,” Crawley moaned, and struggled up until he was sitting up with his heaving chest pressed flush against Aziraphale's who was still straddling him. “What you do to me,” Crawly murmured, and, as if to underline his words, another blissful shudder ran through his whole body.

Aziraphale didn't know what to reply to that, so instead, he leaned down to kiss the demon while he gave in to his yearnings, and sank his hands into that sinfully long, red mane of hair, fingers tangling his fingers in the surprisingly silky locks. He curled his hands into fists, and Crawly moaned indecently into Aziraphale's mouth at the sweet pressure on his scalp. Out of their own accord, Crawly's hips bucked up, crashing their needy members into each other which ripped a throaty groan from Aziraphale, too.

Pulling back slightly, but only so far that their lips were still touching, and they were breathing each other in Aziraphale looked into yellow eyes that seemed huge so close to his own. “Please,” he whispered brokenly. “Please touch me. I... I need more.”

He actually didn't know what he was begging for, and at the same time, he knew exactly what it was he needed – an instinctive yearning to somehow become one with the other, even if he didn't know the details of how to accomplish that. It was a dangerous urge, one that would cross so many boundaries, but... he _needed_.

Suddenly freezing like – ironically – a rabbit in front of a snake, Crawly stared at him. His flaring nostrils were the only movement for a while as he seemed to take in Aziraphale's scent. Eventually, a small crease appeared between his brows, and he looked insecure all of a sudden. In fact, it was the same insecurity that Aziraphale was feeling.

“Yesss,” Crawly eventually hissed, and he stared hardly at Aziraphale for a few more long moments.

Abruptly, Aziraphale found himself on his back again, the cool grass shocking on his heated skin, with Crawly hovering over him.

“Have you... seen the humans doing it?” the demon asked tentatively, his wide yellow eyes gleaming in the night as he stared at Aziraphale.

The angel nodded awkwardly. “Y-yes,” he stammered, and he felt a frisson of pure lust run through him at the prospect of doing _that_ with Crawly. Suddenly, it was the only thing he wanted.

Crawly nodded, to which Aziraphale nodded as well, and, determined, the angel spread his legs more to cradle the demon in the vee of his thighs.

“Do it,” he rasped breathlessly. “I want you to.”

Swallowing heavily, Crawly nodded jerkily before one of his hands reached out to grasp one of Aziraphale's thighs, lifting and bending it slightly. The other hand snaked down between his legs to take a hold of his weeping member. Aziraphale mewled loudly in surprise as the curiously slippery head suddenly bumped against his opening down there.

He panted heavily as Crawly pushed forward, but then cried out when the feeling suddenly turned painful. He'd never felt pain in this corporation, and it wasn't exactly something to be recommended.

Hastily, Crawly stopped, a shocked expression in his wide eyes. Aziraphale breathed out a sigh of relief when he pulled out again.

Horrible awkwardness settled over them.

“It looked so effortless with the humans,” Crawly mumbled unhappily, and Aziraphale had to agree. Maybe it was different for an angel and a demon? But that wouldn't make sense, Crawly and he had human corporations, so what...

“I think,” Crawly suddenly mused, but he trailed off, and Aziraphale only realised what he was trying to tell him when Crawly's fingers suddenly touched him down there. He gasped, and looked down his body but couldn't see what the demon was doing. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but then almost choked on his own breath. Crawly's fingers were so slick and sticky all of a sudden, and effortlessly, they sank into Aziraphale.

“W-what?!” he groaned, but couldn't finish the thought. Overwhelmed at the tingling, amazing feeling of having Crawly's fingers move inside of him, he let his head drop back, and his eyes close in pleasure.

“Thought we need something to ease the way,” he heard Crawly's rough voice, which made total sense to Aziraphale now that he thought about it. The strong, sweet-sour fragrance of berries once more invaded his nostrils, and there, he realised what it was Crawly used to _ease the way_. Well, that made sense, too. Miracling holy oil into appearance for that purpose would have burned the demon's skin.

A mighty shudder rippled through Aziraphale's whole body. The thought of using berry juice like that incredibly dirty but appealing. For a shocking split-second, his greedy, depraved mind wished that, afterwards, Crawly would lick him clean there, wanted to see the demon's lips stained with red juice once more.

He only snapped out of his lecherous thoughts when he once more felt Crawly's member bumping against the muscles of his entrance, now slick and sticky with juice. Aziraphale groaned in approval, and instinctively wrapped his thighs around Crawly's waist to draw him closer.

Time seemed to stand still as the demon slid into his body. Every sense he had seemed to focus on that single point where they were joined now. Once more, Aziraphale couldn't breathe, but he didn't care this time. He deliberately held his breath, didn't move one single muscle because all he wanted to feel was how Crawly penetrated him so, so deeply. He wanted to feel every muscle rippling and stretching as it was giving way for the hard, searing hot rod pushing its way into Aziraphale's body. Never in his whole existence had he thought that a feeling like this could exist.

He opened his eyes as Crawly stilled, and their gazes met, suspended in time for a moment that was just theirs. Wonder, awe, naked desire reflected back at him from Crawly's yellow irises.

But then, the gentle pulsing and pressure of having Crawly inside of him became almost unbearable, and Aziraphale needed him to do _something_.

“Please,” he whispered brokenly, trusting the demon completely to take care of him now, of them both.

Breathing in deeply through his nostrils, Crowley shifted on his knees, body fingers gripping Aziraphale's soft hips, before he gave tentative, careful thrusts, just a gentle rocking into Aziraphale's body that had both of them seeing stars. The angel squirmed under the demon, wanting more, and gradually, Crawly picked up in speed and intensity as he became more confident about what he was doing. Soon enough, he was taking Aziraphale hard and fast, causing the angel to scream and whine at the ecstasy that burned through his body, and the only thing he could do was claw his fingers into soft grass and earth to hold on for the ride.

At one point, Aziraphale wanted it all, and he wriggled around until he could free his wings that were trapped underneath him. With a soft rustle, he bend them up so that he could wrap them around Crawly and himself in a divine embrace that now not only joined them in body but in divine essence, too. The gentle pressure forced Crawly to lower himself onto Aziraphale so that their upper bodies lay pressed flush, slowing down Crawly's thrusts to a stuttering rocking but therefore bringing them even closer together. Aziraphale tightened the protective embrace of his wings, and now could completely encompass Crawly's. Black wings suddenly completed the embrace and their union, white feathers mingling with black. Energy crackled around them, causing the air to simmer hotly, as celestial and infernal powers collided forcefully, the clash of their powers so forceful that Aziraphale felt as if this merging had the power to rip apart reality.

Their wings touching so intimately send white-hot arousal through Aziraphale, even stronger that the physical union of their bodies ever could.

In the end, it was too much feeling. For a moment, Aziraphale felt like flying, soaring higher and higher, and then, he tumbled into the abyss. Blood roared in his ears, drowning out the loud yell that was ripped from him as well as Crawly. Blinding ecstasy exploded within him on a corporal as well as ethereal plane.

Then, utter silence.

Time seemed, once more, to have frozen as they stared at each other, but now, it felt somehow wrong. As if the air had been sucked away, leaving them abandoned in a horrible, empty space gasping for breath that was denied. Reality came crashing down upon them brutally, and Aziraphale had the absurd thought that this must feel what Falling had felt.

“Was this the wrong thing to do?” Aziraphale whispered, hardly daring to breath and his eyes wide with sudden terror of the consequences as rational thinking returned abruptly against his will.

Crawly gulped. “I think... it was the _right_ thing to do...”

Oh, they were both so doomed.

All the magic the last moments had entailed was gone now, sucked out of the air without any trace.

Suddenly self-concious, Aziraphale pulled away from Crawly, and the demon did likewise. Both winced slightly when he pulled his spend member out of Aziraphale's body, the stickiness of berry juice causing their skin to stick together. Their wings untangled from each other with hectic rustling and some uncomfortable pulling and feathers getting caught in each other.

They both struggled up into a sitting position, facing each other, but not looking at eahc other, and suddenly – at least Aziraphale felt that way –, he was ashamed of his nakedness. That was what the humans must have felt after taking from the Tree, this deep-seated embarrassment as they realised they were naked (although, this morning, Aziraphale hadn't really understood why nakedness should be something to be ashamed of; they were the only ones to see each other naked, but after all, they loved each other – any angels or demons watching the garden didn't count, they didn't care about such a mundane thing).

Blinking, Aziraphale re-miracled his clothes in sudden numbing panic, the soft white cloth placing itself over his naked – now free of any juices – body like a securing blanket.

He didn't meet Crawly's eyes, so he didn't know if the demon was disappointed or as embarrassed as Aziraphale, but suddenly, black cloth settled over the naked thighs that had been on the periphery of his line of sight.

“We should...” He cleared his throat. “Yes, we...”

“Yeah,” Crawly agreed, and, mutely, they rose from the ground on slightly unsteady legs. “I have to get back Downstairs anyway.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Good luck then,” he whispered.

Both found the courage to look at each other, and when Aziraphale saw the longing in Crawly's eyes, the same longing he felt for something so _wrong_ , he almost gave in to temptation. But he didn't, he was a good servant of the Lord, after all.

Crawly threw him an unhappy smile, then he was gone.

Aziraphale stared at the spot where the demon had stood for a while longer, the only proof that what had happened had been real the soft, sweet ache in his neither regions. His thoughts were a jumbled mess and at the same time, completely blank, and he stood there under the Tree of Knowledge, unmoving, for the rest of the night.

When the sun arose, Aziraphale had returned to his post high up on the wall, but he didn't face the desert as he was supposed to. He stared down into the garden, right into the heart where he could see the Tree of Knowledge. He wondered what Crawly was doing right now...

“Aziraphale!”

He flinched violently when Gabriel's voice suddenly boomed through his head. Irritated, he held his ringing head. He didn't even acknowledge that he had heard Gabriel – he would have to be dead not to, after all.

“Close the hole in the wall, and then come back to the Head Office. We will find a new task for you.”

After blessed silence returned to him, Aziraphale sighed softly, and decided it would do him no good to stall.

After closing the hole in the wall and after a highly uncomfortable talk he had with the Almighty about his flaming sword (luckily, the Lord didn't bring it up again after that), Aziraphale returned to Heaven, and awated his new orders, never looking back at the garden.

It took his superiors a while to find a new task for him, but one day, when it had been decided that humanity had prospered sufficiently for Heaven to be of any use, Aziraphale was send back down to Earth.

From now on, he should live here on Earth, and do miracles and help people wherever he was send from the higher ups (and, he got the impression, nobody else wanted to do it, none of the higher ups were that taken with humanity). After all, the Devil never slept (quite literally), and Heaven had to make sure to steer people onto the path of salvation. The more people Heaven managed to win for their side, the better their chances were at the impending Armageddon. They were on a very tight schedule here as Gabriel persisted more than once.

Being back on Earth suited Aziraphale quite well. It cheered him up considerably, and took his idle, troubled mind away from Crawly (the demon had occupied his thoughts for too long by now, dangerously long). Not to forget, now he had the chance to sample all the delightful food this planet had to offer. Oh, the natural offerings of the trees and bushes were divine, but as humankind started learning to _cook_ , Aziraphale was doomed. With every passing year he spend on Earth, with every new dish that was invented, the more reluctant was he to ever return to boring Heaven.

It was all Crawly's fault, of course, having tempted him to those berries that night in Eden, much as he had tempted Eve and Adam with a fruit. And just like them, Aziraphale had been as helpless to Crawly's charms as they had been (although, his giving into temptation may have more to do with the demon's skillful hands on his body and his sinful lips caressing Aziraphale's).

No. Not thinking about that blasted demon again, that temptation on two legs! (and what delectable legs they were...)

Angrily, he went his way, trying to push the demon from his mind.

But apparently, Hell seemed to be of the same mind as Gabriel, and they didn't lose any time to send one of their own up there.

Oh, the shock when Aziraphale had realised it was Crawly!

At first, he had just felt a presence from Hell – and quite near his current location as well. How rude.

But when his way had led him further, passing impressive stone temples (how sweet these humans were, inventing Gods of their own) and these amazing pyramids, Aziraphale felt a familiar tingle when that infernal power brushed against his divine essence. He suddenly felt magically drawn to a spot down by the river Nile.

Through lush greens lining the shore, copper hair flashed in the sun like a beacon, drawing Aziraphale in. Immediately, he was overwhelmed with the urge to bury his fingers in the long, luscious curls.

Crawly, speaking to a couple of well-dressed people, didn't acknowledge him although he, doubtlessly, must have felt Aziraphale's presence as clearly as he could sense the demon.

 _I should leave_ , Aziraphale thought. No good could come of meeting Crawly again, but somehow, he couldn't.

Perching on a stone, he waited until Crawly had finished with his tempting-business. The dark energy unleashed when the deal was concluded made Aziraphale cringe, but he didn't step in. His task was spreading love and peace, throwing a spanner in Hell's work (like they did with Heaven's attempts as well), but never to actually confront the fiends of Hell. The big confrontation would come one day, not now, not while they were preparing the big war. Aziraphale shuddered again at the thought of Armageddon.

A shadow fell over him, and he blinked up, meeting Crawly's unreadable gaze.

“Long time no see, angel,” the demon said eventually, and when Aziraphale threw him a small, hesitant smile instead of attacking or something, his tense pose relaxed.

“Yes,” he agreed, “much too long.”

Oh, this was bad. He should just go his way now that they had acknowledged each other's presence here on Earth, and be done with it. Talking to Crawly would only opening himself up to temptation again.

He dearly hoped Crawly wouldn't bring up what had happened.

“We'll probably meet each other quite regularly now that we're both stationed here,” the demon continued, much to Aziraphale's relief.

He nodded thoughtfully. “You're probably right. Exciting times.” A stilted, awkward smile tugged at his lips as he tried to be so overly polite.

“Yeah, definitely,” Crawly agreed, his intense gaze raking over Aziraphale's form for a long moment, betraying himself. But then, his open, incredibly vulnerable expression closed off, and he nodded curtly. “Could be fun thwarting your plans, angel.” And he gave Aziraphale a cheeky, smug smirk.

Aziraphale trembled on the inside, wanting to smack that smug smirk off the demon's face or alternately shut him up through a kiss. When Crawly threw him that olive branche though, he was incredibly relieved about the unspoken agreement to never speak of what had happened between them ever again. After all, only the moon had born witness to their encounter in this Godforsaken place. Nobody had to know. Ever.

And it had meant nothing, really.

Sighing happily, Aziraphale licked his fingers clean of the sticky honey-sugar mass, and, sated, put the now empty little bowl with crystallized fruit away. What delightful treats these little shops in the bath house offered. He had to say that nudging people in the direction of inventing bath houses all throughout known civilization had been a splendid idea of his. And the Romans were making an art out of it by far, building bigger and bigger, and more luxurious bath houses all over their Empire. Granted, he had to admit that, in that aspect, Crowley and he had some kind of unspoken competition going on about who could outdo the other with the more splendid ideas. And to his grudging admiration, he had to give Crowley the credit for initiating installing little shops selling all kinds of snacks in the bigger bath houses (although he couldn't fathom why since the demon hardly ate antything).

Anyway, it was a nice, harmless way of passing the time on Earth, and Aziraphale felt connected to the demon that way without ever having to meet him, sometimes for years. But it was totally clear that it was Crowley's work, and not some other demon's. The rest of that fiendish lot had no interest in the finer things of human life, they just wanted to destroy and sully (alright, Crowley, naturally, hadn't been all that innocent in their little competition; having tempted people to do all kinds of carnal pleasures in bath houses – not all, of course, if Aziraphale could prevent such a practise wherever he went).

Smiling a little wistfully, he shook his head, and decided to take a swim after his delicious snack. He needed some relaxing after a particular tiring blessing job here in Pompeii, and since the city was beautiful this time of the year, he could as well take some time off.

Shedding his clothes, Aziraphale ventured into the heart of the huge compound, one hand clinging fast to the towel slung around his hips; he was a little self-conscious around so many humans, almost naked, but none paid him any attention.

And that was when he felt it.

A painfully familiar presence, right here in the bath house. A mixture of elation and dread rushed through Aziraphale, but he swallowed down both determinedly. When he had sensed Crowley's presence, then the demon must have sensed his as well by now, and it would simply be rude not to say hello.

He viciously tramped down on the thought that, of all places, they had to meet in a Roman bath house, with both of them barely dressed...

It didn't take long for Aziraphale to spot Crowley; the demon's presence was always like a light in the dark that drew the moths (in that case, Aziraphale). But also his hair flashed brightly visible even from a distance. The curls were not as long as they had been, but still had that sinful coppery hue, now darkened with water to a chestnut colour, and begging Aziraphale to sink his fingers into. Crowley lounged in one of the smaller pools of warm water, head laid back, completely relaxed, his spread thighs visible underneath the water (devoid of any towel, but fortunately, it was a little gloomy here so that Aziraphale couldn't make out that much of the demon's tempting body under the water's surface). He adored those thighs, all sinewy and strong, the insides so soft and pale and delectable. He wanted to touch them again, and properly worship them this time around.

He recoiled, mortified and flustered about the sudden spike of arousal that zipped through him, and Aziraphale thought it best to seek out another part of the bath house. Only for a little while.

Making himself comfortable at the edge of one of the cold-water pools, he dangled his feet into the refreshing water. Thankfully, he was undisturbed here, so that he could give himself over to his racing thoughts in peace.

Staring into the gently sloshing water as if hypnotised by it, Aziraphale startled violently when suddenly, a warm body settled next to him (thankfully wrapped in a bathtowel again). He felt Crowley's inquisitive stare turned upon his person, but he continued staring into the pool of water in front of him.

“Didn't want to say hello?” the demon asked curiously, and Aziraphale thought he could detect a bit of hurt in Crowley's voice.

“I was a bit warm,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Yeah, it can get quite hot in here,” Crowley agreed. His tone sounded completely innocent, but Aziraphale clearly heard the teasing note in it. He finally chanced a glance at Crowley, meeting the startling yellow eyes that scrutinised him almost knowingly with a cocked eyebrow.

Aziraphale decided not to indulge Crowley's teasing.

For a while, neither said anything, but he could clearly feel Crowley's intense gaze on his almost naked body, and he wished to take a good look himself at the creature next to him. He shifted uncomfortably which brought him, inadvertently, a little closer to Crowley so that their thighs suddenly brushed. Aziraphale had to stifle a gasp at the almost blazing contact.

Crowley wasn't as successful because a soft, sharp gasp was wrenched from his throat. Stubbornly, Aziraphale ignored the sound.

“I missed you,” Crowley murmured suddenly, and the admission tore at Aziraphale's heart.

“I missed you, too,” was at the tip of his tongue since it was true, it had been a couple of centuries, since they had last seen each other. But he didn't say anything, instead biting his lower lip without looking at Crowley.

He could still feel Crowley's penetrating gaze turned onto him, waiting.

Eventually, Aziraphale couldn't take it anymore, and he suddenly jumped up. He had to get away from temptation. Until now, he had been so good at resisting...

But temptation followed him this time, and suddenly, he found his wrist grabbed. Strong hands spun him around until his back hit a cool marble pillar, and Crowley's hot body was suddenly pressed to his front. He moaned at the feeling which was swallowed by Crowley's mouth descending onto his.

For a short, sweet moment, Aziraphale surrendered, and he nudged his head forward to deepen the kiss. His hips rocked against Crowley's almost on their own accord, and he keened in shock. Unnoticed by him, their towels had been lost somewhere, and suddenly, it was naked skin on naked skin. The noise he made was swallowed by Crowley's mouth, as his trembling fingers scrabbled for purchase on the demon's wiry arms. Crowley's arms came up to wrap around Aziraphale, and the angel melted into the passionate embrace. The contact felt so good. As good as he remembered, better even since the sensations weren't so overwhelming as they had been that lone night in Eden. His corporation had acclimatised by now to everything it could experience, but somehow, that made him feel these carnal pleasures stronger, not weaker. Back then, the contact had almost felt like his nerve-endings had been laid bare; raw and oversensitive which caused him sensations bordering almost on pain, not only pleasure. But now... Now...

He abandoned his helpless hold on Crowley's biceps, and instead slid his hands down, brushing greedy hands over the demon's flanks and bony hips until he could grab firm cheeks, and pull his naked groin forcefully against his own answering hardness.

In a powerful move, he turned the tables on Crowley, and spun them around until it was the demon with his back to the pillar, before Aziraphale dove in for another kiss. He urged one leg between Crowley's thighs that parted willingly for him, and he relished the feeling when the demon instinctively rutted against Aziraphale's leg for a moment. In his mind's eye, Aziraphale was already two steps ahead, dragging Crowley over to the couches in the corner where he pressed him down onto the soft bedding to lay him out like a feast. And he would, this time. He would take his time to get to know the demon's wiry body before he would kneel between his legs, drag his lower body onto his lap, and take him. He wanted to know what it was like, possessing that body that, so long ago, had possessed him. Aziraphale could only imagine the tightness and heat that would clench around him...

A sudden noise wrenched him out of his fantasy before he could act out on any of it.

He froze.

“No,” he suddenly gasped, drawing back from Crowley even if it was the hardest thing he had had to do in a long while, “what if someone sees...”

“Nobody will,” Crowley assured with a whine, and tried to draw Aziraphale back into a kiss, “we're among ourselves for a while.”

Yes, Aziraphale felt the demonic magic at work here. “Not the humans,” he amended though, desperately looking into Crowley's expressive eyes. Strong hands clasped around the demon's shoulders to hold him in place pressed against the pillar, away from Aziraphale.

Realisation dawning, Crowley pressed his lips together unhappily. “I've told you before, they don't care what we're doing as long as we're delivering results.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “It's too dangerous.”

“I'm not afraid,” Crowley insisted, and once more pressed closer to the angel, showing his considerable strength as he easily overpowered Aziraphale's hold on him.

But the angel was determined once again. He shook his head, stepping back hastily.

“We can't, Crowley,” he hissed, a lump forming in his throat, making it hard to breathe. “If they catch us, it will be our ruin.” He swallowed desperately around the lump of constricting emotions, and realised he had never spoken that very real threat out loud. It felt like a relief to finally do. Maybe that was what they both needed to end this madness, this yearning, once and for all. It filled him with new confidence and a stronger will all of a sudden. “I couldn't bear the knowledge that something happens to you. Let's just be friends, yes?”

Desperately pleading eyes bore into Aziraphale. Crowley's chest was heaving with troubled emotion. “They will kill us for being friends as well,” he gasped.

But Aziraphale shook his head. “We could explain that away somehow. You're clever, you would find a way. But not...” Sudden tears prickling the corners of his eyes, Aziraphale turned away. “Please, Crowley,” he begged, tightly shutting his eyes. He didn't know if the terrible noise he thought he heard was his own heart breaking or Crowley's. Probably both.

“Then we should draw a line under this,” Crowley suddenly said, his voice only sounding a little wobbly, bust mostly hard and merciless. “Let's never see each other again.”

Shock ripped through Aziraphale like being doused with ice-water. His gaze snapped up to look at Crowley. “No! I can't... Please!”

“It would be easier on both of us,” the demon pleaded, and, rationally, Aziraphale knew that. But he wasn't strong enough for that.

“But... I know I'm too much of coward to be with you like that, but I couldn't bear losing you completely.”

Demon and angel stared at each other for a long, long time.

Finally, Crowley sighed, and his shoulders drooped dejectedly. “Me too,” he whispered, and hung his head.

Aziraphale swallowed heavily. This wasn't fair, but these things lay not within their powers. “So... friends?”

Crowley snorted an unhappy, flat laugh. “Yeah, angel. Friends.”

Briefly, he met Aziraphale's eyes. “Better if I go now.”

Dumbly, the angel nodded.

And with only a curt nod as goodbye, Crowley slipped away into the shadows.

Aziraphale remained, alone, and he stared ahead of him, unseeing though.

“I'm such a coward,” he breathed, his words not really words at all but only the barest whisp of breath. He was the biggest coward to ever walk Heaven, Hell or Earth, but he wasn't a traitor. He had his mission, and he was loyal to Heaven. It was his home, his family, everything he would have left after the End had come, wasn't it? He could never... not even for Crowley...

And anyway, it didn't bear thinking about what Heaven would do to him, let alone Crowley if they ever found out. Sometimes, Heaven could be remarkably vengeful, much more so than Hell ever could.

Dejectedly, Aziraphale gathered all the dangerous, forbidden feelings that had been consuming him for thousands of years against his will, and locked them away deep into the darkest corner of his being, and he found that it was easier than he had thought.

They could never come to light again.

As humanity spread out over the planet, Heaven realised that Aziraphale couldn't manage all of Earth on his own. Therefore, he was assigned a territory, namely the quite fetching island of Britannia, while other angels (who never wanted to settle down on Earth though, just popping down for a quick visit) were assigned other parts of the world. That had been shortly after the death of the carpenter which he had still witnessed with Crowley, but a couple of decades after that, he was assigned his new principality.

Hell had realised that predicament a while ago already; Crowley hadn't been the only demon on Earth for a long time now. But, as if fate led them together (or it could be that Crowley tricksed his way to Britannia as his permanent assignment after Aziraphale had told him he would be send there), the demon also settled down on that island. As if they were magically drawn to each other, they still crossed paths now and again. Sometimes, they didn't see each other for decades on that relatively small island, sometimes, they met as often as a couple of times a year.

At first, meeting up after that disastrous, fateful encounter in Pompeii had been hard on both of them. But slowly, oh so slowly, they learned to be friends. Well, acquantances, really, since Aziraphale sometimes thought that even being friends was way too intimate and dangerous.

But they made do.

They met each other more frequently after they had made their Arrangement in the High Middle Ages, which worked surprisingly well. Aziraphale was hesitant for a long time to even think about such an arrangement, but Crowley's arguments made total sense, and, really, he saw no reason to forfeit a perfectly good meal to travel through the whole country for a stupid blessing if Crowley was headed there anyway and could do it for him. He almost felt no shame that his lazy, hedonistic nature thwarted his Heavenly orders since he sometimes didn't even see the use in these small miracles for the Grand Plan.

More and more, the buzzing, growing city of London became something like a home for him. After travelling the world for over five thousand years, he was tired of that life. Humanity was inventing so many incredible things (food, mostly; Crowley was the one who was interested in the technical inventions), but when, a couple of hundred years ago, he had to travel the world to see these amazing things, nowadays, he could stay in London, and see them for themselves right here in this city or read about it in the upcoming science journals.

Aziraphale was happy with his life as it was turning out. He had settled down in one of the biggest cities in the world. What better place could be found to blend in with humanity and study their nature and sample their creativity to pass the time (what did Heaven think he was doing when he hadn't been given an assignement? Fall into a coma to wait for his next orders?!)?

But it wasn't just the culinary pleasures he gluttoned on (his shame about that faded with every bite he took, so, eventually, he was completely fine with it all; the deadly sins were overrated anyway).

Sometimes, he had admit to that, even he couldn't avoid the temptation of the flesh. Sometimes, even an angel of the lord needed comfort, warmth, love even. The pleasure was bright but fleeting, just like his human lovers' lives, and deep down, although he didn't admit it, wouldn't admit to it even under torture from Heaven and Hell combined, there was always disappointment and longing in the end. Longing for the one who touched him for the very first time. And sometimes, when Crowley looked at him, searching eyes hidden by dark sunglasses so that he thought Aziraphale didn't catch him looking, he thought he saw the same wistful yearning reflected in Crowley's whole being.

His feelings had been locked away securely for centuries now, but sometimes, Aziraphale couldn't help himself but feel an echo of them sounding through his whole being.

Fortunately, those moments were few and far between. They were not even the strongest after he wistfully left a lover's bed, no. They were the most vicious when he sometimes learned that Crowley had taken lovers as well (just small hints here and there, but one time, he saw him kiss a pretty young man in the shadows of a _cathedral_ – the cheek). Then, he started to wonder. Did the demon touch them like he had touched Aziraphale thousands of years ago in a moonlit night under a forbidden tree? Did he set them ablaze with the same transcendental passion or was that something only the union of two divine beings could achieve? With wondering came the jealousy, an ugly feeling that sat heavily in Aziraphale's stomach and burning through his veins like acid, spoiling his appetite for the rest of the day. He hoped (and at the same time not, since it wasn't a nice feeling) that Crowley felt the same when he thought about the lovers Aziraphale took, what he did with them.

These phases were over again quickly every time as he brushed them aside violently like an annoying midge whose bite stung him for a short while; not really hurting but itching and being cause for some uncomfortable nights.

Friends.

Yes.

That was the only way for them for the rest of time. He couldn't risk them being more, but also could never bear to part from Crowley completely (and anyway, what if they were together now? Armageddon would only part them again one day, and then, they were forever trapped in Heaven and Hell, hurting and yearning for each other for all eternity).

It's okay, for most of the time. And he hoped that Crowley had managed to lock away his feelings as deeply as Aziraphale had, for both their sakes.

On an inconspicious Sunday noon a few hundred years later, an angel and a demon had lunch at the London Ritz after having had to deal with a not so inconspicious Saturday which, nonetheless, had been a revelation and a liberation in more than one aspect.

Aziraphale watched Crowley as he raised his glass. The demon opened his mouth, and Aziraphale saw him forming words in his head. “To...” he began, but then, Aziraphale felt that Crowley reconsidered his words. The demon narrowed his eyes at Aziraphale contemplatively, almost desperately, pleading, hoping.

“To us,” was what he finally said, and tilted his glass Aziraphale's way hopefully.

Aziraphale held Crowley's intense gaze, reading in it everything his friend wanted to tell him with that, and suddenly, for the first time since that moonlit night under the Tree of Knowledge, the cool grass at his back and the warm body between his thighs, moving inside of him, Aziraphale didn't feel any guilt or worry. The only thing he felt was freedom, relief, and hope for the future. A future together. He felt almost light-headed with it.

A small, relieved smile tugged at his lips. “To us,” he replied, and clincked his glass against Crowley's.

The demon beamed at him, still a little disbelieving and fearful as if he couldn't believe that this could be really true, but nonetheless overjoyed. They drank to each other, their gazes never letting the other out of their sight.

“Let's go home,” Crowley whispered eventually, and the angel nodded eagerly. He reached out for Crowley's hand to pull him to his feet, but as both were in the process of rising, Crowley bend closer to Aziraphale, and pulled him into a kiss that the angel was sure must be felt by Heaven and Hell, that was how great, how magical the sizzling, warm power sparkling between them, through them was.

 _Let them_ , he thought, completely unconcerned, and pressed closer to Crowley.

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I just wanted a short, plotless story where Aziraphale and Crowley have sex in the garden Eden, but somehow, this turned into a bit more^^.
> 
> I've done some [art](https://www.deviantart.com/celedansuniverse/art/Good-Omens-Eden-865394050?ga_submit_new=10%3A1609192512) accompanying this.  
> 


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